


It Was

by novelesque



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Happy Ending, Heartache, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Albus Severus Potter, Wistful, first scorbus fic whoop, i had so much fun writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-10 04:38:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20522072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novelesque/pseuds/novelesque
Summary: Albus realized it towards the very end of his fifth year.Their fifth year had been a wonderfully peaceful blur of O.W.L. study and a continual return to normalcy with every passing moment after the Time Turner incident. Better than normalcy. A new normal. Albus’s family was awkwardly, hesitantly trying to patch things up as smoothly as they could, battling between the natural progression of trust and their fierce love for him. The students at Hogwarts generally were more terrified of Albus and Scorpius than they were spiteful. Their uninhibited recklessness had sparked an intense admiration and disbelief that granted them a wide berth. Scorpius and Albus were doing well. Bizarrely well.Naturally, it all fell apart following the conclusion of O.W.L.s.





	It Was

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun writing this piece. These boys have my heart, and they have for several years. Inspiration struck, and here we are. I hope this will only be the first of many <3 warning for non-angst heartache and the yearning to grab onto life and never let go.

Albus realized it towards the very end of his fifth year.

Their fifth year had been a wonderfully peaceful blur of O.W.L. study and a continual return to normalcy with every passing moment after the Time Turner incident. Better than normalcy. A new normal. Albus’s family was awkwardly, hesitantly trying to patch things up as smoothly as they could, battling between the natural progression of trust and their fierce love for him. The students at Hogwarts generally were more terrified of Albus and Scorpius than they were spiteful. Their uninhibited recklessness had sparked an intense admiration and disbelief that granted them a wide berth. Scorpius and Albus were doing well. Bizarrely well.

Naturally, it all fell apart following the conclusion of O.W.L.s.

Scorpius chattered delightedly about his exams. “All of that studying paid off! I’m only nervous about the section regarding healing uses for Abraxan hooves. More of a Potions-centered question than a Care of Magical Creatures one, which I suppose is what caught me off-guard. I can tell you right now what the uses are, but I don’t even remember what I put down…”

“I’m sure you did fine, Scorp. More than fine. You probably got O’s in everything. Or better. Cause if they had to invent a score higher than an O for anyone it would be you.”

Scorpius rolled his eyes. “I think you’ve mistaken me for Rose.”

“You two are incredibly similar. Nerdy, obsessive, ridiculous—”

“Okay _that_ was uncalled for.”

Albus laughed. “I’m glad you feel confident about your exams. It’ll be nice to have the Scorp I know back.”

“What exactly do you mean by that?!”

“The Scorpius that is fully present and not secretly memorizing properties of moonstone while I’m talking.”

“…Okay you’ve got me there.”

Albus and Scorpius made their way up the mossy stairs from the greenhouses to the castle. Herbology had been their last exam, and the sense of relief radiating from every fifth and seventh year was smothering. Albus knew he would be hearing analyzations of various questions from their O.W.L.s that Scorpius remembered up until the very moment their scores came in, but he didn’t mind. Around this time of year came difficulty in getting Scorpius excitable or even smile. The anniversary of his mother’s death always hit him hard. In some regards, Scorpius was lucky that it fell over summer holiday. It never distracted him from schoolwork or helping Albus with Quidditch strategy. In other regards, it usually put a large damper on any summer fun Scorpius was engaged with. But Albus knew if—when—the time came that he would do as he always did: sit and wait it out with Scorpius.

Scorpius was still speculating on his exam performance as they reached the castle, and suddenly it was as if everything stopped.

His hands were elegant and emphatic as he explained. His eyes were bright and distant as they theorized imaginary scenarios in the space that lay before them. His jaw tensed and eased as he spoke. His smile was infectious and mesmerizing. Albus was stunned, motionless. _What is happening right now_?

Scorpius turned and smiled questioningly, cocking his head slightly. “You alright?”

Albus shook himself out of his reverie. “Y-Yeah,” he stammered. “All good. Let’s go to dinner. I’m starving.”

Scorpius agreed as they continued their walk to the Great Hall, but Albus’s mind wandered still.

_He’s beautiful. Why is he beautiful? _

The summer holiday began in a whirlwind. The Potters and Weasleys had all gone to see the World Cup, and this year Scorpius was invited. Ginny had reminded the boys that independent excursions were strictly permitted. Although the Potter family was moving swiftly in the area of relationship repair, both Ginny and Harry (and Draco for that matter) were insistently cautious when it came to the boys’ freedom. Draco had allowed Scorpius to vacation with the Potters solely on the condition that he write twice a day for the three days they were away.

Despite the burdens on their liberty, the boys had an immensely fun weekend. Scorpius’s nonstop commentary was much more insightful and accurate than that of the professional commentator but Albus hardly paid attention to it. To avoid suspicion, Albus kept his head facing forward, but his eyes were focused solely on Scorpius.

_This is the experience of a lifetime! What are you doing staring at your best mate instead of the game?_

Albus didn’t have an answer, but he couldn’t look away. Scorpius was far more interesting than the game, and he made Albus’s heart beat twice as fast.

It was a quiet unfurling within Albus’s chest. The painstakingly thorough love that had developed as a result of being Scorpius’s friend was slowly transforming into a determined, wild, and untamable love for Scorpius’s heart. Never did the love present itself in the dramatic or bold. The nearly tangible current that thrummed in Albus’s veins surged during the quiet moments. It was watching Scorpius stretching languidly across the Manor’s library windowsill. He turned pages frequently at a steady pace as his glasses slid slowly down his nose. Every five pages he would adjust them and resume reading without interruption. Dust motes fluttered down from the heavy drapes like summer snow, and Albus’s mouth went dry.

It was watching Lily try and steal his best friend whenever they were at the Den, because obviously Scorpius was the light of the room and Albus could not even blame Lily for wanting him to herself. Scorpius held a quiet anticipation within him. Reserved, kind, and always ready for adventure if it meant he was close to those he loved. It was Scorpius carrying Lily around the yard on his back, skillfully avoiding trampling any of the beautiful (and likely highly magical—and therefore volatile) plants Mr. Potter and James had carefully planted across the large garden. Scorpius flushed with the summer heat and laughed freely. Albus caught Scorpius’s eye, glimmering with mischief and utter contentment with the clear and established belonging Scorpius held at the Potter household. Albus was sitting in one of the several lawn chairs the Potters had scattered across the yard, but still, his knees were weak.

Summer came and went. Scorpius’s grief had hardly surfaced aside from the anniversary day itself.

“That’s the funny thing about love. It leaves a hole in your heart. And you think someday it will heal, but it never does. Your heart simply learns to love bigger, and the hole becomes smaller, and less painful by comparison.”

Scorpius sipped his lemonade, pensive. Albus was speechless. Whenever Astoria’s death came around, Scorpius hardly spoke. He never elaborated on his feelings, other than the obvious intense sadness and wistfulness that accompanied such an event.

“You’re resilient,” Albus said, before he could stop himself. Scorpius startled, apparently not having expected a response. Albus figured he couldn’t stop now.

“You’re strong and durable in ways most people never will be. It’s incredible. You’re incredible.” Albus maintained fierce eye contact with Scorpius to prove he meant it. The pink of Scorpius’s cheeks was a breathtaking contrast to the sunshine yellow of the lemonade glass still lightly held in his hand.

“I—thank you, Albus,” said Scorpius. “Um, thanks.”

Albus only nodded as the breeze tousled his hair whimsically. Scorpius stared even after Albus looked away. _Where did that come from? _

As their sixth year began, the impending pressure of N.E.W.T.s began to mount even though the exams were two years away. Albus felt strongly pulled toward a line of work that relied heavily on Defense Against the Dark Arts. He would not be an Auror—he could hardly imagine the comments regarding his dad in his own department—but there was no hiding Defense as his strong suit. Perhaps a curse-breaker like his Uncle Bill. He was not half bad at Charms and Transfiguration either, and a comparison to Bill would be less likely and not nearly as demeaning as one to his father. Albus secretly would be flattered to be likened to Harry by his skill but he had an uneasy feeling most people would comment on their hair.

Scorpius was taking similar N.E.W.T.s as Albus in addition to ones that he would never, ever need to be a Healer. History of Magic and Care of Magical Creatures were not especially pressing topics in the healing world, but Scorpius had vested interest in both subjects and made arguments that the history of healing magic was a highly laudable sign of professionalism, and all of the potions used in advanced healing were likely to contain some form of Magical Creature. These points were made so definitively and swiftly that Draco had quickly given up trying to talk Scorpius out of biting off more than he could chew.

Fall found itself in chilly breezes that curled around ankles on brisk mornings, and the frosty stillness of the window that showed the underbelly of the Black Lake. Albus and Scorpius danced like the leaves that skittered across the ground. They both could feel a change coming, but neither of them wanted to think about what that could be. And what exactly could they base that change on? A few stuttered heartbeats? Odd recognition of beautiful moments? An uncharacteristic compliment? Certainly not. Life’s rhythm was finally cemented in a semi-permanent fashion following their fourth year, and neither was willing to risk it.

Christmas was here. Scorpius’s favorite season. There was no contesting the magic of snowfall through the window, hot cider in your hand, and the smell of a crisp pine in the sitting room. By extension, of course Christmas was also Albus’s favorite season, because the relief of the completion of a semester combined with Scorpius’s intense fascination with Christmas led to a lot of laughter and lighthearted evenings. The house was strewn with a multitude of gold and red Christmas décor and a lesser silver and green array concentrated around the tree. Albus had bitterly insisted on the addition of Slytherin colors after his Sorting, but as the years progressed, he was less adamant. Gryffindor wasn’t his house, but gold and red were the Christmas colors he had been raised with, and they still evoked a sentimental swell during the holidays. This year was sure to be the best one yet.

Scorpius had been winded from the Portkey and disheveled from three days of living in a tent, but Draco was all the same pleased to see him home in one piece after the World Cup.

“Dad! Absolutely incredible! I never thought I would see someone fly so skillfully! And we met so many unusual people from around the world; I heard an absolutely fascinating story from a Hungarian about growing up as an early twentieth century witch…”

Draco chuckled, “I am happy to hear you enjoyed yourself. Lovely to see you Ginny, Albus.”

Ginny smiled warmly, also looking windswept from the past weekend. “As promised, he is back fully intact.”

“I am very grateful,” Draco replied. “Thank you for taking him, despite my reservations.”

“Anytime. In fact, we were wondering how you and Scorpius would feel about spending Christmas with us.”

Albus stared at his mother like she had suddenly sprouted a second head. _What?_

Scorpius had a similarly surprised expression on his face, but he looked at his father. “Dad?”

Draco pursed his lips. “I suppose it would be good for Scorpius and I to start being social around the holidays again. That is, Scorpius, if you would like—”

“Yes! Dad, yes! Thank you!” Scorpius gushed.

And this is how Draco and Scorpius Malfoy were found on the Potter hearth this year.

Draco held a bottle of Firewhiskey. “Thank you for inviting us.”

“Anytime, Draco. It occurred to us that Albus and Scorpius are such good friends, and it’s about time to get to know you better because of it,” Harry said. A heavy moment passed as Draco waited for Harry to take the bottle. Hesitantly, he reached out and took it before shaking Draco’s hand.

Albus had heard many stories from his father, from Scorpius (who had heard them from his father), and history books about the rivalry between Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. Albus knew that his father watered down the stories severely, due to Albus and Scorpius’s friendship, because the history books told a much more violent story that matched up flawlessly with Scorpius’s input. Draco Malfoy was brutally honest about his conduct as a young man once Scorpius reached an age where he would not have nightmares because of it. Draco had a pressing need for Scorpius to know that Draco had been wrong, and he regretted his actions every waking moment of his life thereafter. Albus’s father was strong in many ways that Albus could hardly comprehend, and he knew that Harry’s acceptance of the Firewhiskey meant more than Harry would ever want to elaborate on.

“Dinner is almost ready,” Harry said. “Come in.”

Albus had waited, tense, as the conversation played out, but with the realization everything was going to be fine, he ran to Scorpius and nearly knocked him over with his hug.

“I can’t believe your dad decided to casually adventure to Brussels for a week,” Albus moaned. “Torture. Torture! I had to spend so much uninterrupted time with my siblings.”

Scorpius laughed. “I owled you every day!”

“I played fifty-seven games of Wizard’s Chess in six days. Only an insane man would do that.”

Scorpius snorted. “’Man,’” he repeated mockingly.

Appalled, Albus lightly shoved him. “Take that back!”

“Absolutely not.”

“Boys!” Mrs. Potter called. “Come on, we’re about to sit for dinner!”

They both grinned at each other, famished, and disappeared to the kitchen.

It was the expression on Scorpius’s face when he received his own Weasley sweater on Boxing Day. Draco had politely turned down the invite to this celebration as well—“Perhaps next year.”—quite unwilling to face Mrs. Weasley just yet. Scorpius felt the smoothing over between Harry and his father was an appropriate amount of repair for one season and didn’t argue when Draco had told him such.

Mrs. Weasley had always adored Scorpius despite his lineage. His impeccable cordiality and endearing charm had won her over within the afternoon of his first visit. This was Scorpius’s first Christmas, however, and therefore his first Weasley sweater.

Being Albus’s best friend, Scorpius knew the immense familial significance the sweaters held, and was struck speechless and he was handed his own.

“I—Mrs. Weasley, I,” Scorpius stammered. “I’m not—you don’t have to—”

“But you are, and I want to,” Mrs. Weasley said firmly with a twinkle in her eye.

Scorpius’s cheeks were a flushed rose, and he was clearly becoming overwhelmed by the second as he blinked furiously and quietly muttered, “Thank you,” before excusing himself to the bathroom to change (and let a few stubborn tears fall, Albus suspected).

“He loves it,” Albus rushed to tell her. Mrs. Weasley smiled warmly.

“I know, dear,” she said. “I have a feeling that while Draco takes immaculate care of him and never for a second has given Scorpius reason to doubt that he is completely and thoroughly loved, the sense of a family after his mum died is likely fleeting and far between.”

Albus blinked. He had never thought about that before. As he pondered it, however, he realized Grandma Molly was obviously right. Naturally Astoria’s death would permanently influence the way Scorpius felt about family—especially during the holidays.

Scorpius emerged from the hall, lashes wet and cheeks still pink. He was grinning uncontrollably at Albus as he showed off his navy-blue sweater with a boldly stitched grey ‘S’ right in the middle.

Albus’s heart caught in his throat briefly and he weakly gave a smile and thumbs up in return before Lily came over to compliment Scorpius on his sweater. Mrs. Weasley set a comforting hand on Albus’s shoulder.

“He’s a keeper, Albus,” she said with a squeeze. Albus turned around to ask _Precisely what in Merlin’s pants does _that_ mean?_ But she was already across the room to speak with her other grandchildren.

_Scorpius doesn’t even play Quidditch_, he thought absently.

The spring semester dragged on through Quidditch season and a near constant argument about who was taller (most certainly Albus), and still nothing changed but the weather. The stress of final exams was only intense because the sixth years knew that their professors were going to do their best (best meaning worst) to prepare them for next spring’s N.E.W.T.s.

“I simply cannot take it another moment!” Albus groaned from his bed across the room. “I absolutely one hundred and ten percent regret taking History of Magic.”

“You know it will be useful,” Scorpius said, focused more on his Herbology revision than Albus’s woes.

Albus sighed, “Sure, it’ll be useful, but it’s entirely not required and absolutely something I could have supplemented on my own time! After graduation! Why did I do this to myself?”

Scorpius, slightly miffed that Albus continued to interrupt his study to be dramatic, stacked his papers and took off his reading glasses to look at Albus properly. His hair was messed from constantly running his hands through it while he studied, and he was slightly sleepy, blinking slowly in a way only Albus could tell was from exhaustion.

Albus’s expression softened. “You should get some sleep,” he suggested gently.

“I can’t,” Scorpius replied, leaning back against his headboard. “I haven’t gotten through my Herbology cards yet and I still have to start my Potions after that.”

“One day won’t kill you,” Albus snorted. Scorpius didn’t think it to be very funny at all.

“Don’t laugh at me! It isn’t funny! If I don’t study, I’ll fail my exams and become a hermit who stays at home all day and has absolutely no purpose in life but reading interesting books and debating what scones I want with my afternoon tea. I’ll never make a difference in the world—”

“I don’t think it would be possible for you to leave the world without making an impression, Scorp,” Albus argued.

Scorpius completely ignored him. “—and I’ll absolutely have no way to contribute to the positive reputation the Malfoy name is beginning to build and you’ll quit being my friend but not really, you’ll come by during your lunch hour that you only sometimes get cause you’re saving the world—”

“I’m hardly my father in that aspect,” Albus commented darkly.

“—but you’ll only come by because you pity me and my hermit-y ways—”

Albus laughed so loudly that Scorpius stopped ranting.

“What are you laughing about? This is not a humorous picture I’m painting,” Scorpius sternly chastised.

Albus wheezed, “Malfoy the Unanxious: afraid of being abandoned by his friend who has no other friends, and using the word ‘hermit-y,’ which, I’m fairly sure is not a real word.”

Scorpius crossed his arms, “I wasn’t joking.” 

“Oh, don’t be cross with me,” Albus said. “You have to know that the idea I could ever pity you or somehow abandon you is ludicrous.”

Scorpius didn’t comment, fidgeting with the duvet under his legs. He shrugged but kept his eyes down.

Albus stopped. “You really think that? Scorpius.”

Scorpius glanced across the room. “Just let me study, Albus. I have a whole hour of Potions left.”

“No, this is important,” Albus insisted. “You’re my best mate.”

“Yeah, I know,” Scorpius snapped, suddenly irritable. “You think I don’t know that? We’ve spent practically every waking moment together for the past six years. I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were,” Albus replied coolly. “I was only reminding you that you’re important to me.”

“But how important?” Scorpius stressed. The room stilled. Both knew that Scorpius had just stepped on the question they had both been afraid to put words to for the past year.

Albus’s voice cracked as he answered, “So important. You know that.”

“That’s not the question I’m asking,” Scorpius countered, “and you know it. Exactly how am I important to you?” Albus froze. What kind of answer was Scorpius expecting? A proclamation of love? Another insistence that Scorpius was his best mate? And why did it matter? Was he going to change his mind on their friendship if his answer was one way or another?

“Why do you care? I thought I was distracting you to the point of hermithood,” Albus said coldly. “I’m going to bed. Have fun with Potions.”

Albus flung the drapes shut and didn’t come back out for the rest of the night.

Exams came and went. Warm, golden spring afternoons were slowly slipping into molten summer nights. Only a few days remained in the term until the students of Hogwarts were released for holiday, and the excitement mounting across the grounds was palpable.

The sixth year Slytherin dorm was tense and awkward. Albus and Scorpius still went through their days together, but in a terse silence. The other day Lily had come over to say hello during breakfast and was met with an extended series of conversation nonstarters. When she cornered Albus to ask what was wrong, he snapped, “None of your business,” and immediately stalked off in the opposite direction.

Albus’s window of time was closing. He couldn’t end the year without speaking to Scorpius. What exactly he was going to say was still up for debate, but he knew whatever it ended up being, he had to say it soon. It didn’t need to be a dramatic confession or revelation. It needed to be normal. He needed his best friend back before the summer began, because he knew the silence could drag through the entire holiday if both were stubborn enough.

Scorpius flipped the catch of his buckle up on his trunk and snapped the lid shut. After six years he was finally getting the hang of packing only what was needed, not what _might_ or _in case of a banshee emergency_ be needed.

“Scorpius.” Albus had his arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe. Scorpius jumped at the sudden intrusion.

“Merlin’s pants you scared the daylights out of me!” Scorpius angrily snapped the other buckle down and whirled around to face Albus. “I don’t appreciate the element of surprise.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Albus said gently. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Scorpius asked pointedly. The two held eye contact, daring the other to break first. Scorpius won.

“You know what,” Albus muttered, now focused intently on the laces of his shoes. “All of it…I just want us back to what we were. Scorp and Albus. Just normal.”

Scorpius stilled. He wanted that too, and yet he knew that would leave them exactly as they were before exams. He inhaled steeply through his nose and let all the tension fall from his shoulders, deflating before Albus’s eyes. Scorpius looked so tired.

“Okay,” he said. “Yeah.”

Albus was overwhelmed with the sudden urge to wrap Scorpius in a hug as tightly as humanly possible. He looked so small. The bags under his eyes were worse than before exams, he was hunched over into himself with his arms crossed. Albus’s heart ached. Having everything back to normal was far preferable to not having Scorpius at all, but he knew that the fog of unease that had clouded their relationship was never going to thin without some very difficult decisions.

Scorpius looked up and took a step to the side and continued his packing. Those decisions would have to wait for another day.

“Um…” Albus stopped and weighed his words carefully. “So, do you want to come over? You know, whenever you’re done settling in at home again. If you want, that is. You don’t have to, obviously, I mean take as much time as you—”

“Albus, shut up,” Scorpius said. “I’ll be there tomorrow morning.”

Platform 9¾ roiled with steam, bustling parents and students, and the unmistakable taste of exhilaration. Albus leaped onto the platform and hurried to find both of their trunks. He stacked Scorpius’s on top of his own (so that it wouldn’t get scuffed) and turned to find Draco so that he could utilize a Temporary Shrinking Charm on both, but instead caught Scorpius at the precise moment he started down the stairs.

Something had changed with Scorpius. Not since exams, not since they had their row, not even all at once. Breeze whipped through the platform and rushed Albus with a sense of déjà vu. A year ago, he had stood in a very similar spot, significantly more oblivious. The mossy grounds of Hogwarts after their Herbology O.W.L., the glint of the sun from Scorpius’s hair, the way Scorpius’s hands outlined the exact process of Wiggentree pruning, the slight bump on the bridge of Scorpius’s nose.

They had both changed. Albus was taller, broader, more serious. The future was on the horizon. Scorpius came to Christmas now. Scorpius’s hair was longer, his jaw sharper. Scorpius spotted Draco from the stairs down to the platform and smiled freely. Albus heart pounded—a storm of unprecedented intensity and yearning sparked in his chest. It was the slope of Scorpius’s wrist as he adjusted his tie, the way he pursed his lips before smiling, the air of elegance that was so genuinely Malfoy combined with the grounded nature that was unabashedly Scorpius.

“Albus.”

He turned to find Harry and Ginny waiting to take Albus’s luggage.

“Hi, Mum,” Albus said, enveloping his mother in a firm hug. He breathed in the flowery scent of her hair and sighed. Ginny was startled by her son’s uncharacteristic affection but smiled warmly, thankful.

“Is everything alright, Albus?” she asked, straining to lean back far enough to accommodate her son’s height. Albus breathed out again and stood up straight, relieved.

“I’m just glad to be home. I’m excited for summer.” Albus looked over to see Harry looking mildly bewildered. “Hi, Dad.”

“Hi, Albus. We’re glad you’re home too.” Harry flicked his wand, and both trunks were reduced to small jewelry boxes on the pavement. Albus reached down to pick them up and turned around to find Draco and Scorpius walking over. He held out Scorpius’s trunk for him to take.

“Thanks,” Scorpius said, tucking the trunk into his coat pocket. Albus’s fingertips tingled from where Scorpius’s hand had brushed against them. Albus glanced down and dragged the toe of his shoe along the floor uncertainly.

Ginny glanced between both boys and coughed. “Draco, let’s go say hello to Hermione. She has some interesting new draft work regarding the transport of magical heirlooms you might be interested in.”

The three parents migrated toward the Granger-Weasleys, leaving Scorpius and Albus standing, hesitant, next to the Hogwarts Express.

“So,” Albus began, straightening his blazer. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

Scorpius bit his cheek, trying (and failing) to hide his smile. “Yes, Albus. Tomorrow morning. Is nine okay? I’m craving a famous Savior of the World breakfast.”

Albus groaned. “I wish you wouldn’t call it that. It’s so weird.”

“You love it,” Scorpius shot back slyly. Most of the students had cleared the platform, and Harry was glancing a little too pointedly over at the two, looking questionably uncomfortable.

Albus locked his jaw and before he could talk himself out of it, said, “Yeah, I do.”

Scorpius raised an eyebrow but seemed pleased. “Come on, let’s go. The Savior of the Wizarding World awaits.”

“Not even funny.”

The Den was unusually tidy in preparation for James’s return from his intensive Herbology training in the Netherlands. It would be the first summer with all three of the Potter children home since the summer before James’s seventh year. Albus was helping Ginny finish up one of the last few organizational tasks: rinsing the musty cabinet china.

“Is it okay if Scorpius comes over tomorrow morning?”

Ginny paused and furrowed her brow. “Yes? Of course. I had actually assumed he would be here later tonight.”

“Um, no. He’s getting settled. He said he was craving a Potter breakfast, though,” Albus said.

Ginny twisted the dishrag in her hands. “Scorpius and Draco are here for Christmas Day again this year…you know that, right?”

Albus nodded. “Yeah. I hear Draco is going to stop by for Boxing Day as well.”

“That’s good. That’s very good,” Ginny said. She straightened the towel and folded it as Albus tackled the last of the drying rack. “Is everything okay, Albus?”

“What?” Albus looked down at his mum for the first time during the conversation. “Yeah, of course.”

“Okay. I was just wondering. I don’t think you’ve asked about Scorpius coming over in two or three years.”

Albus shrugged. “Just…checking. Making sure.”

There was a Muggle grandfather clock next to the fireplace in the Potters’ living room. Albus was perched on the couch, wrapped in a blanket knitted by Grandma Molly, staring blankly at the pendulum as it oscillated. He had sat through four chimes and offhandedly thought he was probably nearing a fifth when he heard footsteps from the stairwell.

“Albus, it’s nearly three in the morning.”

Harry yawned as he made his way over to the couch and sat down. Albus didn’t move at the sound or even acknowledge it had happened. “What’s wrong?”

Albus blinked slowly. Nothing was exactly wrong. Rather, simply that not everything was right.

“How did you…? When did you know that mum was it?”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “When did I know I loved her, you mean?”

A beat of silence. “When did you know that she was the only one you were going to love for the rest of your life?”

The clock struck three. The house seemed to be settling—a defined space of silence echoed through the halls following the chime. Harry took a deep breath.

“Right before I left to defeat Voldemort. Well, when I left to find all the Horcruxes. She and I were standing in Grandma Molly’s kitchen, and I was telling her what I was going to do. She didn’t want me to go, but she knew I had to, and that was when I realized that your mum is probably one of the most selfless women to ever walk the earth. Even though she loved me—mind you, probably more than I loved her at the time and she knew that—and knew full well I had a very slim chance of surviving what I was setting off to do, she knew I had to do it, and wished me luck.”

Albus chewed on the bottom half of his lip. “That’s…intense.”

Harry laughed. “Yes, very. Most people hopefully do not have such a dramatic, life-threatening road to that realization. But things were the way they were, and that’s how I knew.”

“That’s really lovely,” Albus said truthfully, “that you knew so young, too.”

Harry smiled. “I’m grateful for that every day. I have had so much time with your mother and can only hope I have more.”

Lily stirred in the other room, but it seemed she was only tossing in the night. Albus was aware of the late hour, so he answered his father’s unvoiced question. “I think it’s Scorpius.”

A moment passed where Albus realized perhaps his father would not be okay with the fact that Albus’s “it” was a boy, but the moment passed quickly. Harry nodded. “I think so too.”

“And for so long I was so oblivious to it. He was my best mate, and I was his, and there wasn’t any need to go any further into the concept, but something changed. I changed. He changed. And then I was afraid that this would ruin our friendship, but I don’t think it will. He’s waiting for me, because I have a suspicion he’s known on behalf of both of us far longer than I have, but I just don’t know how to go about it.”

Harry chuckled. “You’re just like me. I had no clue, and for years, when she was right there beside me, in the house I spent most summers in, feet away in the Common Room or the Great Hall, sister to my best mate. ‘Course, I was a little busy being constantly hunted by evil forces…”

Albus snorted. “Dramatic much?”

“You were getting a little too serious,” Harry said, smiling. “But honestly, Albus? If you know it’s him, tell him. As soon as possible. It doesn’t matter where or how, but he needs to know.”

Albus nodded. “Yeah. Thanks, Dad.”

Harry stood up to go back to bed, and on his way back to the hallway ruffled Albus’s hair like he used to when Albus was little. Albus’s heart ached with a bittersweet nostalgia. “Go to sleep, Albus. I think you have a big day tomorrow.”

No sooner had Albus closed his eyes did the sun rise and shower the garden in meek rays of morning light. Another hour passed and the Potters began to move about. Bacon sizzled, coffee trickled, and Albus remained dead asleep on the couch.

The fireplace sprung to life with a whoosh and delivered Scorpius Malfoy onto the Potter hearth. Scorpius’s first sight was of Albus sprawled across the sofa. Scorpius shook his head, bemused. Son of Harry Potter, likely soon-to-be Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, handsome idiot extraordinaire: Albus. His Albus.

“Hey, Scorpius,” Lily said. “He’s been like that all morning. Approach with caution.” “Good morning to you, too, Lily,” Scorpius replied. He crossed the room and shook Albus’s shoulder gently. Albus’s brow furrowed, displeased, as he slowly blinked into awareness.

“Oh. Hi.” Albus stretched and yawned contentedly. “It’s you.”

Scorpius raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? It’s me. Scorpius.”

Albus’s lips twitched as he tried to hold back a smile. “Ready for breakfast?”

“I’m starving. And I smell bacon. It’s a dangerous combination.”

Albus rose and grabbed Scorpius by the wrist. Scorpius’s heart jolted. That was new. “Come on, you get first pick.”

The air was now balmy and thick with the scent of dry hay: officially summer holiday. Not too hot, not too rainy: the perfect, yet tragically transient, blend of weather. Scorpius and Albus both gorged themselves on toast, fruit, bacon, eggs, potatoes, and coffee with gusto. Before either could succumb to the sudden onset of lethargy following the feast, Albus groaned. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

“Albus Potter wants to go outside? On foot?” Scorpius mocked. Albus rolled his eyes and ushered him out the back door.

The backyard was a mess of jungle and carefully hidden plants. Harry tended to lean toward edible herbs while James enjoyed the poisonous, toothed varieties, and as such the garden had taken hold right after James began at Hogwarts. A permanent fixture of constant change and magic in Albus’s life. If the plants grew here, so would they.

“Scorpius,” Albus began, but paused. Where to even start? How on earth could Albus communicate everything Scorpius was to him? He _was_ everything.

Scorpius stood, a patient smile on his face. Albus stared.

It was as if everything had stopped. It was a quiet unfurling in Albus’s chest. It was watching Scorpius stretching languidly across the Manor’s library windowsill. It was watching Lily try and steal his best friend whenever they were at the Den, because obviously Scorpius was the light of the room and Albus could not even blame Lily for wanting him to herself. It was Scorpius carrying Lily around the yard on his back, skillfully avoiding trampling any of the beautiful (and likely highly magical—and therefore volatile) plants Mr. Potter and James had carefully planted across the large garden. It was the expression on Scorpius’s face when he received his own Weasley sweater on Boxing Day. It was the slope of Scorpius’s wrist as he adjusted his tie, the way he pursed his lips before smiling, the air of elegance that was so genuinely Malfoy combined with the grounded nature that was unabashedly Scorpius.

“Yes?” Scorpius prompted gently. Albus could tell Scorpius was trying with everything in his power not to anticipate what was coming next for fear that it would be the exact opposite of everything Albus was about to say.

“I love you,” Albus said firmly.

Scorpius stood up straight, his face serious, and waited for Albus to continue.

“I love you, and I think I always have. I think for so long I didn’t realize that this isn’t how you feel about your best mate. And I was scared that I would lose my best mate over feelings that I couldn’t be sure were even feelings I should be noticing. You’re it, Scorp. You’re all that matters, and all I could ever want. I love you, I’m in love with you, and I don’t want to let you go. Ever.”

The breeze whistled through the branches of the large willow tree that towered over the yard. Albus could feel the silent weight of the sunlight on his cheekbones as he closed and opened his eyes slowly.

Scorpius still stood stagnant. The earth teemed with a soft anticipation.

“Albus,” he said. “I…I mean, it’s…you.”

Albus laughed nervously, eyes darting to the ground. “Forgive me if I have no idea what to make of that response.”

Scorpius looked pained, and fidgeted. “Albus.”

“Yes?” Albus asked. Déjà vu shivered down Albus’s spine.

Scorpius stared at him, shook his head, and quickly closed the gap to kiss him.

Albus had absolutely no idea what was to do, but he didn’t care. He gently held Scorpius’s jaw and drew his other hand down Scorpius’s arm to interlace their fingers. Why had they never tried this before?

Scorpius breathed in and pulled back to rest his forehead against Albus’s.

“You’re such an idiot, Albus Potter, I swear,” Scorpius muttered crossly.

Albus grinned and tilted Scorpius’s chin to meet his eye. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Scorpius said, strained. Albus knew he was trying desperately not to cry.

Albus brought his thumb up to Scorpius’s cheek. “And I’ll still love you if you cry. Possibly even more.”

Scorpius hugged Albus fiercely. His voice was muffled in Albus collar as he replied, “Stop it right now. I’ll jinx you if you’re any soppier.”

“Can I get a warning of the spell at least? I have something else.”

Scorpius groaned. “What?”

Albus wrapped his arms around him even tighter. “I said it earlier, but you have to know.”

Scorpius nodded into Albus’s shoulder. “Okay.”

“You’re it for me,” Albus said quietly. “You’re more than I deserve, and everything I could want. I love you. You are more than enough. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Scorpius drew a shuddering breath. “I love you, too.”

Albus held onto Scorpius for what seemed like hours. The Potters had likely noticed their absence by now, but Albus couldn’t find it in him to care. He was exactly where he was supposed to be.

It was the way that Lily shrieked, “Finally!” when the two walked back in. It was the way Scorpius blushed furiously every time Albus kissed his cheek, because he could. It was being able to look at Scorpius and know that he was Albus’s. It was Draco’s wry smile when he came over for dinner later that night to find Scorpius’s hand in Albus’s. It was seeing Scorpius smile throughout the day as he stopped and touched his lips. It was catching Scorpius looking at Albus like he was his entire world. It was everything feeling as it should: genuine and unrestrained. It was loving and being loved in return, knowing this was only the beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you thought <3


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